by Mark Tufo
“What the—” I yelled as I snapped back to my predicament. Kirkland had sensed my thoughts were elsewhere and was kind enough to help me back by projecting his left foot into my rib cage. One, possibly two ribs snapped with the dryness of a twig under a hot desert sun. But the pain made it feel as if my entire side had collapsed. I was in trouble, he had punctured a lung, my breathing was becoming shallower and the blood rising up my throat was also not a good indicator. I figured I had about a minute to finish him off before I was the dead one. Wouldn’t that just screw up my plans? Kirkland was also aware of the damage he had inflicted; he started to pull himself away from me as fast as a one legged man could, which, believe it or not, was amazingly fast. I stumbled after him but my breathing was becoming more difficult. I was drowning in my own blood. My heart raced in fear, my thoughts drifted to my mother. I missed her toasted cheeses for dinner, Eddie Peak, my best friend in the first grade, Betsy Hoegler, the first girl I ever had a crush on. Mandy, the first girl I was ever in love with. Breaking a million on Missile Command. Kate Hellsboro. A blood splattering cough racked my body. I fell forward; I barely had enough strength to turn myself over. Kirkland, seeing my potential demise, was coming back for the kill. His eyes gleamed with the prospect of another victory. He appeared to look more like a serpent than a man. If I could only concentrate on something besides the pain, but everything began to become unfocused. Images kept fading in and out. Kate Hellsboro. Who was Kate Hellsboro? Recognition through the pain. Kirkland also noticed the change in my face, the clearing of my eyes, he hesitated and my opening arrived. With Kirkland in my face I stuck my crude but effective knife straight into his throat. Blood crisscrossed my face, air bellowed out of the hole in his neck. He still had the presence of mind to try to finish me off; he attempted to break my neck, but I was never going to give him that opportunity. I just kept sticking the knife into the side of his neck until he had to accept the inevitable, his life was over. He rolled off me and tried to cover his multiple wounds with his hands but the blood poured out every crevice. I felt the need to let him go into the afterworld with one final parting shot.
“Hey, dumbass!”
He actually turned to look at me.
“If you had just left me alone I would have died all by myself in another minute or two.” With that final shot his days were over, but even though my eyes were closing I had the distinct feeling it wouldn’t be forever. For some strange reason I thought I smelled a cheeseburger.
***
“I think he’s coming to!” I heard from a galaxy far, far away.
“Someone get a wet cloth.” That galaxy didn’t sound so far away, I thought.
“He’s opening his eyes,” a familiar voice said, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. I thought to myself, I hope my eyes aren’t open because I can’t see a thing. The world looked as if I was viewing it through an ace bandage. I could see shapes but no distinction whatsoever.
“I can’t see,” I mumbled weakly.
“And by the sound of it you can’t talk, either.” Brief laughter broke out amongst the women in the room but it felt more like relief than humor.
“We all thought we were going to lose you,” a tender voice said. I could hear the strain in it.
The name Deb popped into my head long before I was able to associate it with the voice.
“How long?” I muttered.
“You’ve been out for close to a month,” a voice unfamiliar to me said.
My face must have gone slack, but she still continued with the explanations even after seeing my disdain.
“Well, dear sir, you got your lung punctured and an artery to your heart was also nicked. The aliens are still in disbelief you are alive. They are more than a little upset by all of their scientific data you should have died the moment your rib was broken.”
Well, that was all the information I could handle for this month. I fell back asleep but not as deeply as before.
“Mike, can you hear me?” What a soothingly comforting and familiar voice, I thought to myself. “I know it’s over between us.” I was about to reply, but from her tone I was under the impression she was talking more to herself than me; the fact she thought I was sleeping did not deter her from her speech. “I know the comfort we brought each other was temporary. It was just our way of coping with this insanity and the stress. Only I didn’t know I was going to fall in love with you. To be honest, I didn’t even think you were going to live past the first round I saw you in. And I think maybe you had the same thoughts and maybe you felt it would be better to at least go out with a smile. But now I think you’re going to survive and I think you also believe you are going to make it through this nightmare. Nobody could’ve done what you’ve done so far. Granted, your strategy has been superb, your stamina incredible, but my love, your luck has been—”
“Has been guided by the hand of God,” I rasped.
Deb gasped in amazement that I was awake. “You bastard, you let me go on and you were awake this whole time!” she yelled.
“Well, even us heroes need ego boosting every once in a while,” I murmured.
“You… you…” her face reddened with the prospect of using the appropriate terminology. Before she was able to, I spoke.
“Deb, I love you.”
“But?” Wow, she did know me well.
“But Beth is and always will be my love, and I think my soul mate. You were there at a time when I so desperately needed someone. You made me happy and kept me going especially when I didn’t think I had anything left in me. But I truly feel the end is drawing near, whether it is for my victory or my ultimate demise. I can feel it in my bones; in my very soul. And because of that I have to be true to Beth and myself. Being with you now would only be selfish.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But I’d rather have a small piece of you than no part at all.” She left the room before her watering eyes began to tear.
After a brief reprieve, Tanya came in more breathtakingly beautiful than I had remembered. But I had no time for such frivolous thoughts anymore.
“They have a fight slated for you two weeks from today,” she said bluntly.
“That’s just dandy, I can’t even leave this bed right now to take a whiz, but in two weeks I’ll be back in the arena fighting.”
Her entire demeanor reeked of concern. Although I know she cared for me, I was under the impression she was more concerned with her own well-being than with mine. And that was completely understandable.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be able to go to the bathroom by myself by then.”
She laughed and I laughed and damn it, it felt good. Up until the time my ribs said otherwise.
The aliens had held off on the ratings until they were sure I was going to pull through. My survival was probably going to set off a storm because a lot of contestants were more than likely studying the opponent they would next meet with me out of the picture. So they had in most cases wasted a month of studying time on an opponent they would not be facing. Thoughts of Beth filled my head constantly, life without her seemed incomplete. Debbie had become solemn and withdrawn over the last few days; unfortunately I couldn’t afford to be good company to her. I didn’t feel I had the capacity for it.
Number 2, I thought to myself. Not bad, not bad at all. But with seventy-four other competitors left that meant Durgan was going to get another bye, which meant the rest of us were going to do our best to kill each other while sustaining grievous injuries and he just kept getting stronger. Apparently, God, or at least the aliens, didn’t like that scenario, either. The aliens wanted to see the gruesome Durgan at work so they revoked his bye and were going to randomly assign it. I was under the suspicion that ‘random’ was too strong a word. These aliens probably had ties to the mob. I was convinced my number wasn’t even included in the randomization process. And there it was, number 13 got the bye.
CHAPTER 24 – Journal Entry 19
My next opponent, number 74, Shawn Timmins, Albert Timmins older brother, was one of those rare individuals who prove you can’t judge a book by its cover. Especially when the cover weighed in excess of three hundred sixty pounds. He was about five-foot ten or five-foot eleven and fat, not big and bulky, just plain fat like his brother. If I ever got off this ship would I be able to go to the Timmins’ household and look their mother in the face? And tell her what, her boys had died valiantly, at a stupid alien contrived event? Shawn was huge like his brother, but all similarities stopped there. He moved effortlessly and with a precision a figure skater would be proud of. I had no clue how this incredible bulk of a man had made it this far. I watched all of his previous clashes and discovered I was going to be truly saddened by killing him. He was one of the few contestants left who was worthy of living. By all accounts, he never let one of his competitors suffer needlessly and it appeared the women were relieved when he won. They obviously knew their fate with him would not end up with torture and death. However I might feel about him, I still had to look out for number one, or in this case number two. I deserved to live just as much as the next guy and I was not going to let those feelings disrupt my ultimate goal, which was to get off this ship and give these aliens some payback. This man was blessed with a grace that belied his enormous size; he must have lulled all of his competition into a false sense of security. He had to have a lot of muscle mass to move that much weight around that fast. He, unlike me, did not make it to this level on luck alone. He was skilled, but I found a chink in his enormous mass. And I planned to exploit it for all it was worth, which in this case meant his life. My competition was in two days and I did aerobic exercises almost that whole time. I had to regain some of my former strength. I said nothing more than the precursory niceties to the girls. Deb had withdrawn from our makeshift family, she did little more than eat and sleep. I felt concern but it was buried deep, it was more like a back burner type of concern. If I wasn’t actually looking at her I didn’t think about it at all. By the time my front door dematerialized I was able to, as promised, go to the bathroom on my own. Also, due to the expert care of our hosts, I felt almost seventy to seventy-five percent back to my normal self. Not as high as I would have liked it to be, but a lot better than dead, I reckoned. For once, I actually entered the arena with no fear, whether it was pure folly or total confidence, I’m not sure. It finally felt good to not want to heave at the beginning of a bout, but the flip side of that was I was about to kill a man and I was not concerned about that little tidbit at all. I was saddened at the prospect of never again being that boy who had come onto this ship. Would my own mom even recognize me? I seriously doubted it.
The battlefield this time was a mockup of a department store. It looked just like Wal-Mart, there was a produce section off to the right, sporting goods straight ahead, a row of registers to the left. Sporting goods, huh! What were the odds they’d have rifles there? I didn’t think that would happen but it might be worth a jaunt down that aisle to check it out. First, I grabbed a spear and then I strode up one of the aisles. Much to my chagrin, everything was merely a mirage. Unlike previous scenarios, all of the goods in this store were nothing more than smoke and mirrors. The floor and the shelving felt real enough, but when I tried to pick up a bottle of Wisk my hand passed right through it. So even their computers had limitations. It was good to know this opponent was not omnipotent. Well, so much for a rifle, I might as well get to the task at hand. And there he was, entering the same aisle I was in. We had about twenty-five yards of distance to close on each other before we clashed. Alright, time to put Plan A into effect. This had better work because there was no Plan B. Mr. Timmins seemed pleased I was headed straight for him, apparently looking at him gave people the misinformed notion he could in no way move his bulk quickly enough to strike or even repel an attack. I picked up my pace a little and brought the spear up over my head and threw it for all it was worth. Well, I’m not Swahili and he was fast. He dodged it with little effort. I stood for a second, dumbfounded. I let him go on the offensive, something I knew he was not used to but would do if the cards favored it. He ran at me, sword raised. I stayed as long as I dared, he moved even faster than he had on the replay. I felt the tip of the sword as it cut a six inch swath through the back of my shirt as I hauled away. Smelling fear and blood, he chased me. I made sure to stay close enough so he wouldn’t give up the chase but far enough so I didn’t become his next victim. My legs burned, it had been a long time since I had sprinted; my lungs ached for air. But I could hear Timmins laboring, he sounded like a bulldog on a ninety-five degree day. He was panting and snorting and I bet if I was brave enough to turn around he would have been drooling like one also. I could sense he was falling farther and farther behind. I sped up and then slowed when I felt the distance was right. Timmins was hunched over with his hands on his knees breathing for all he was worth; catching his breath was becoming an exercise in futility. Well, time to up the ante. I sprinted to the end of the aisle and cut up the next one and circled back to the far end where I had first spotted him. Poor guy, he was still hunched over, gasping for air. I halved the fifty yards in eight or nine seconds, scooping up my spear as I ran. He was possumming! He stood, twirled and ran right at me full sprint. I again chucked the spear at him but this time he was more like a charging bull than a dancing pony. I scored a partial hit; blood welled up from the wound in his side but he never slowed. I had no time to feign surprise; my forward momentum had brought me to within inches of his sword. I did not have enough time to turn tail, I ducked down and dove to the right. Timmins’ bulk brought him another twenty feet before he was able to get his mass moving in another direction. I scrambled for a few feet on all fours—I wasn’t trying to look pretty I was just trying to escape. Every moment counted, he was again right on my tail. If he had a spear I would have been impaled a long time ago. My legs were throbbing, I had a stitch in my left side, but I was not going to slow down to resolve that problem. After another twenty-five to thirty yards of him pursuing me I could tell he was dropping off again. I felt confident enough to take a glance over my shoulder and yes, he had stopped and was once again hunched over hands on knees, but this time his shirt was soaked through. Sweat was dropping into his brow and off his chin. I would remember to be careful of the puddle he was making lest I slipped on that. I figured I had more time but I had no desire to prolong this. I once again grabbed my spear. Timmins lifted his head just enough to eyeball what I was doing. He knew, he eyed me and smiled.
“Touché, Mr. Talbot!” he yelled between ragged breaths.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. I was not about to give him any more breathing room.
“I see what you’re doing,” he rasped, “I may be fat, but I’m not stupid. I’m glad I’ll be losing to you instead of one of those other animals. Maybe in a different place we could have actually been friends.”
“Maybe,” I said warily. “But you know what I have to do.”
“I do,” he answered. “But do me two favors?” he asked.
“What?”
“Take care of my women and then please take care of these insects.” He gestured with his hand to the crowd.
“I promise on my very soul I will do both those things for you and for every other decent person who has died here.” He dropped his sword. Was this another trick? Was he just trying to lure me in? I couldn’t take that chance.
“Defend yourself!” I yelled.
“My time here is done Mike. Just do it fast.”
“Shawn, pick up your weapon. Don’t make me do it this way.”
“Come on, man, you know as well as I do I don’t stand a chance against Durgan or anybody else for that matter. I’ve been watching you since this began. You have a way about you. You could actually pull this off. No, it’s better this way. The women have a better chance of survival with you than they do with me. I care more for them than for myself. Just do it!” he yelled.
His voice star
tled me, I think I jumped. I was wishing it could be me letting the weight off my shoulders. He was about to die and he seemed immensely relieved. Is that how I’d feel? I wondered.
